


five years later

by honey_wheeler



Category: Empire Records (1995)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You flip a coin to decide which one gets to be your groupie for the night and when AJ begs you to stay the next morning, you say, “It would never work between us, AJ,” as you collect your shoes from under his bed and sail out the door. It’s lonely, being on the road, but it’s worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five years later

This is how it’s supposed to go.

You’re on tour with your latest hit album. You play to sold-out crowds, signing autographs outside the bus before being spirited away by your entourage and management team. Your boyfriend is in a band. He plays bass or maybe drums and he's kind of like Sid Vicious except cleaner and cuter and not homicidal. Empire is totally out of your way, but you insist on a visit. "These people are my history," you tell your manager. "These are my roots." 

They're all still working there, even AJ and Corey since it's _your_ fantasy life and you don’t have to care about things like geographical impossibility if you don’t want to. Joe hugs you, tells you how he makes sure all the customers know that the famous Gina Shoxx (because that's going to be your stage name, Gina Shoxx, even if your phone company refuses to change the name on your bill) once worked right there, at that very register. The girls are equally thrilled for and jealous of your success. The guys each confess to always having a crush on you. You flip a coin to decide which one gets to be your groupie for the night and when AJ begs you to stay the next morning, you say, “It would never work between us, AJ,” as you collect your shoes from under his bed and sail out the door. It’s lonely, being on the road, but it’s worth it.

This is how it actually goes.

There's no tour or hit album. Just hash browns and coffee that you sling in a diner on the outskirts of Nashville, which is how you pay your bills so you can record demos on music row and hope for your big break. Instead of a manager, you have orthopedic shoes. Instead of a rocker boyfriend, you have a piece of fried egg clinging to your hair and a pencil behind your ear. You say things like "y'all" and call people "hon" even if you’ve never met them before. It’s the exact time you wouldn’t want to see anyone from your past. Which is, of course, exactly when a piece of your past walks in the door and sits right down at your station.

Deb doesn’t recognize you at first and you hope she won’t, that you can give her bacon and eggs, sunny-side-up, and escape with your dignity intact. But instead she lowers her sunglasses and stares at you and says, “Well slap my ass and call me Suzy.”

“Why Deb,” you say. “I didn’t recognize you with hair.” Old habits die hard.

“I didn’t recognize _you_ with clothes on,” she counters. You don’t expect a good tip.


End file.
